The Iron Maiden
by Little-Emms
Summary: Little selection of HG drabbles. Read to find out more, new chapter submitted!
1. The Lion and the Unicorn

The Lion and the Unicorn

Today, Fiona is doing my disclaimer.

Fiona: _reading from paper_: Ummm… right…Emmeline, or "Little – Emms", doesn't own Fiona – oh – is that me? – or Daniella, or Hewie, or Riccardo, or Debilitas – Oh my gosh, what was that? AAAGGGGHHHH!!! _sprints off_

Fiona? Sweetheart? That was just the telephone! _Runs after her_

Remember the beating scene between Riccardo and sobsob Daniella? Well I wanted to write down what our favourite psychotic maid was thinking during the scene. _Cries and punches Riccardo_."The Lion and the Unicorn"? Yeah, all will be explained at the bottom.

Author's notes at bottom - oh, and just to warn you, if you are offended by swearing, be best not to read this. There's not that much, and it's mostly the same word, but...hey..I know a lot of people who don't swear. I do. Just to warn yas.

"Dani! Dani-la! Dani-ya!"

I frown. How often I had told Debilitas now to get my name right? I know he has speech problems and is mentally a five year old, but 'Daniella' really isn't that hard; and when I have been into town to but supplies, most of the five year old I've seen can talk quite fluently.

He lumbers up to where I am kneeling, breathing rapidly and heavily, and shifts his feet. I look to him and notice with a stoic patience that he has traipsed mud down my clean floors. Now I shall have to do it all again. A waste of time when I could be doing something more useful.

"You are not supposed to be here," I say calmly. "I am cleaning."

He looks down at me, child-like apology written all over his face. I've seen it before, mainly on the faces of the cowed – down children with the young mothers.

"Didn't Master Riccardo warn you? You are not to come into the house. You have your own living quarters."

I turn away from him with my cloth and start wiping up the mud.

"Riccardo," he repeats.

I ignore him.

"Riccardo," he says a little more urgently. When I continue to clean, he grasps my shoulder and shakes it.

"Riccardo," he says, then screws up his face as if to remember what else it was he was going to say. "Wan's you." He finishes triumphantly.

I frown again. I have always had trouble deciphering Debiltas' broken speech. "What did you say?"

"Wan's you!" he says again.

"He wants me to see him?"

"Yes!" he grinned happily, relieved he had delivered his message.

"And Riccardo told you this?"

He nodded frantically.

"Why did he not come and find me himself?"

He pauses. Then he shrugs his huge shoulders.

"Where is he?"

He doesn't answer, simply grasps my hand, and pulls me up, then beckons to himself. Ah, I see. He wants me to follow him. I pull my hand out of his, and walk sedately after him.

Out of the door and into the cold night. Walking past the blood – stained pillars and the looming shadows, and the creaking chandelier dangling from the ceiling that I personally always sounds like an injured animal. I glance up at it. After I've finished in the main castle, I'll fix it. I follow Debilitas to the plate-pressing room, where he does what I suppose is a bow, and scarpers off.

I push open the door and the first thing I see is Riccardo, looking furious. I bow to him, as always, but he storms over and catches the back of my neck. I fall to the ground.

Oh, dear. He is in a very bad mood today.

"Sit down," he forces out between clenched teeth.

I follow his gaze to the chair at the far corner, draped with cobwebs like a white shawl, and I do as he says. I sit down primly, my hands folded in my lap, and gaze calmly at him.

"You've been conspiring with him." He does not ask – he simply states it. "Haven't you?"

I say nothing. Sometimes, if I keep calm and quiet, allow him to rage on and on like a furious summer storm, then he'll stop…

But, not today.

"Answer me, Daniella!" He slaps me again, with such force that my head turns sideways. "Answer me, you fucking useless bitch! Answer me, you stupid girl! You – you maid!"

"Oh, yes, I can see you two up there, having your little cosy chats, plotting to get her, to get the Azoth, and get rid of me! To KILL me! Is that you want, eh, girl? That'd do you fine, wouldn't it, you doll, you – I'm not half as stupid as you seem to think I am, Daniella!"

I calmly look at him. I tune him out. I imagine him dead, lying collapsed and bleeding on the floor with a piece of glass skewering his heart and lungs like meat on a spit…

It's good he's not half as stupid as I thought he was. If he was any more stupid, he'd be going backwards.

When I come back to reality, he is still standing there, ranting and screaming and flailing his arms around. I feel like telling him to calm down, to stop shouting or he would give himself a heart attack. I nearly giggle at the thought of it. That would show him.

"Take that stupid _FUCKING _BLANK expression of your worthless face!" he screams into my face. Flecks of spit settle on my eyelashes. "You bloody failure! You whore!"

Personally I think 'whore' is a rather stupid insult to one like me.

Then he leans into me, brown eye to yellow.

"I.HATE.You." he says softly. "Did you know that, Daniella? I can't stand the sight of you."

I tilt my head at him.

"I know you hate me, Master Riccardo," I say. "But you can't kill me yet. I've still not finished the cleaning."

As he whips out his antique pistol, I fully expect him to shoot me. He doesn't though, simply hits me over the side of the head with the barrel of it.

I know this should be hurting me. I know that my body can only take so much force. If he hits me much more, I will faint. I do not tell him to stop, simply fold my hands in my lap again and look calmly at him.

From behind the door, I could have sworn I heard a throaty growl, and then footsteps…

"Where is he?"

SLAP.

Ah. So, this is about Master Lorenzo. But the truth is, I've not spoken to him for weeks. There's no point in telling him this. He will not listen. He goes completely senseless when he's angry.

"I won't let you touch her, old man!" he screams to the ceiling. "Her azoth is mine!"

Then he turns back to me again.

He slaps me, again, and again, and again, grunting and snarling in fury as he does so, my head snapping from the left to the right, to the left, to the right. He's like a furious beast, tortured beyond all comprehension, and so he takes his fury out on me. I suppose I can see his logic. I cannot feel pain at all. Or emotions. I do not care if he hates me or not. I should do, but I…don't.

I can hear a horrified gasp, and I look to the keyhole, my face bruised and bloody, and smile. I was right. That girl – the Azoth - _Fiona_ - is there, her blue eye peering into mine, a look of abject horror on her face.

And some distant part of me screams: if she looks so horrified, it must be out of sheer concern for me.

So why does she not try and help me?

I do not voice this thought. I just smile at _Miss _Fiona, blood dripping down my lips and chin.

I was actually really upset when I saw the beating scene. Ah, poor Daniella…she's my favourite character. I hated Ricardo after that. I tried to get Fiona to go in, but no… "I've got to get out of here!" Oh piss off, Fiona. Anyway, sorry for this lil bit of…in – game…something. I know it's not great. I've got a chest infection. As for "The Lion and the Unicorn"? An old English (I presume) rhyme, goes like this;

_The Lion and the Unicorn were fighting for the crown,_

_The Lion beat the Unicorn all around the town._

_Some gave them white bread, and some gave them brown,_

_Some gave them plum cake, and chased them out of town!_

Work it out for yourselves. The first lines fit, at least. ;P

R&R please and make this sick English girl happy! I love constructive criticism and will nearly always take your advice – flames will be used to warm this fucking country up. It's FREEZING over here in England and has also been steadily pissing it down all day.

This will be the first in a little series of drabbles, probably mostly about Daniella (:D) maybe some about some of the others. Any ideas on what to right next? I'd love ideas. Only not romance. I cannot write romance for my life, which is a bit unfortunate. Ah well, I'll probably learn.


	2. Precious Hewie

Precious Hewie

This idea was based on my friend's insane puppy. After the little bastard bit my feet, legs, arms and nearly face, she goes to me; 'I know he gets a little bit hyper sometimes, but he's a sweetheart most of the time.' Yeah, like fuck he is. I know how Riccardo feels...

I don't own Haunting Ground or any of the characters, m'dears.

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"Why don't you try to make friends with him?"

The clear voice of Fiona Belli startled Riccardo out of his deep reverie. He jerked himself out of the book on Alchemy he had been reading. Fiona watched him with her calm blue eyes, curled up on the sofa opposite him. The white Alsatian, Hewie, was sprawled on the ground between them.

"I beg your pardon?" Riccardo asked.

"I said, why don't you try to make friends with him?"

"What, with him?" Riccardo pointed one calloused finger towards the gently snoring dog in front of him.

"Yes, Riccardo, as opposed to the other males in the room. I wouldn't ask to you to make friends with yourself, would I?" Fiona smiled, somewhat patronizingly, across the room at him.

"Very funny," he snarled at her.

"So, why don't you?"

Riccardo felt his bronzed face slowly reddening. "Because…because…I – well, I…" Riccardo, very rarely for him – if not a first – was at a complete loss for words.

"Ohhhhhhhh." said Fiona slyly, smirking at him. "I see. You're afraid of Hewie, aren't you?"

Riccardo thought it better just to give in.

"Well, yes," he said sheepishly. Then he rallied round. "Who wouldn't be afraid of that crazed beast? It bit me. It bit me _hard_. Look!" He pulled up the sleeve of his usual robe, to expose a long, freshly-healed, livid white scar. Riccardo looked triumphantly at Fiona, only to be greeted by a face so cold it would put Daniella's to shame.

"For your information, that 'crazed beast' saved my life countless times over. If it wasn't for that 'crazed beast' I wouldn't be sitting here with you right now. And of course he bit you, you spent our first hours together chasing after me with a gun and threatening to rape me!"

Again, Riccardo was at an uncharacteristic loss of words. There was really no way you could argue against Fiona's points. They were all true.

The two fell into an uncomfortable silence. Riccardo looked down at the threadbare carpet. Fiona stared onto the middle distance with a frighteningly blank look on her face, one she normally used when her parents were mentioned.

Riccardo glanced at her cold blue eyes and looked quickly away again.

"I know." he said.

Fiona looked at him from under her long eyelashes. "Do you want to know how you can make it up to me?" she asked.

Riccardo thought for a minute

"Sex?" he asked, hopefully.

If Fiona's grin was to get any bigger it would split her face in half. "No, silly," she replied. She slid off the sofa, took Riccardo's cold hand in hers, and pulled him down to crouch awkwardly next to her.

She stroked her hand along Hewie's long, well - groomed, snowy fur. The dog stirred and woke up. With a wide yawn and a little whimper in the back of his throat, Hewie sat up in the entirely non – elegant way dogs have, and looked at Fiona.

"Look at him," said Fiona beseechingly to Riccardo. "He wouldn't harm a fly now, would you, my precious-wecious little doggy-woggy?"

And how Riccardo wished Fiona was talking to him.

"I'm not fooled, Fiona," he told her firmly.

At which Fiona fell into full grovelling mode.

"Oh _please_, Riccardo. Please, _please, please! _Just a little stroke. I swear, he won't bite, come on!"

"No!"

Fiona gripped Riccardo's hand again, hard. "I'll stroke him with you."

The dog looked at Riccardo with his curious brown eyes, sizing him up. Then, in the back of his throat, he let out a low, rumbling growl. The sort that clearly conveyed; "Try anything to me or my Fiona and you're mincemeat." Riccardo jerked his hand away from the German shepherd.

"Steady, Hewie," Fiona said kindly. She stroked the top of his head gently, speaking in her soft, soothing tones. "It's OK. He won't hurt us."

The dog gave her a look that seemed to say; "Do you want to bet on that?"

Once again grasping Riccardo's hand, she put it onto the dog's gleaming fur and stroked it down his side. The dog closed his eyes, crooning softly, enjoying the attention. Fiona let g of Riccardo's hand and he continued to stroke the dog, the thick white of the dog's coat, sliding it through his fingers.

"See?" she said, triumphantly. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"Shut up," he growled. Fiona just smiled knowingly as she left the room to get a drink of water.

It was as though she saw the small, happy smile on his face as Hewie sighed contentedly and he continued to stroke the dog's fur.

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A/N

HA. Pure crack, guys. Beware of the fluff! And also – dogs can croon. Mine does. ;)


	3. Truth and Deception

Truth and Deception

Disclaimer:

I don't own Haunting Ground, Fiona, Daniella (as much as I'd like to), Hewie or the Rooms of Truth and Deception and related objects inside it. I don't even own this computer, it's my Dad's.

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_Click._

Even without looking around her Fiona knew that sound was a bad sign.

She ran to the door, yanking at the handle. She gasped, her eyes prickling with miserable tears. The door was locked. The door was locked, Hewie was outside the door, and she was alone in a strange room with strange wax figures glaring mockingly at her from the walls.

_You're in for it now,_ their still faces and unmoving lips told her. _Look what you've done, you stupid little girl._

She didn't understand what she'd done. All she done was touch a glass covered pinboard full of exotic species of butterflies and then there was the ominous _click _which meant the door had locked. And there was no way of getting out.

Fiona stumbled across the room, when…she stopped.

Something was crawling on her skin, and slowly lifting her arm up, she saw it was a beetle, crawling out from underneath her shirt sleeve.

She yelped in horror, shaking her arm violently, swatting at her wrist, to dislodge the insect. She knew her fear was irrational. After all, beetles were harmless, weren't they?

She closed her eyes, regaining her breath. That maid would come to look for her sooner or later, wouldn't she? Maybe she could try to slip past her, set Hewie on her…if he was still waiting outside the door.

Fiona looked around the room. No visible means of escape…

_Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz_

Even without looking around her Fiona knew that sound was a bad sign.

Then, she saw it…or rather _them_.

Hundreds upon hundreds of beetles, swarming down towards her in a black cloud, like the plague of locusts had descended upon Egypt.

She backed away and hit a wall; there was nowhere to run…

They landed on her, and directly after the shock of them crawling up her skin, came pain.

She screamed.

"NO!!" she cried in agony.

They were scarab beetles…but she was sure she remembered her father telling her that they were harmless…

She cried and kicked falling onto the floor…she pulled one off her body, screaming as it took a chunk of her flesh with it, then burrowed back into her body, eating at the muscle…

She screamed as another more crawled up her cheek, moving to her eye…it crawled onto her eyeball; it was eating it right out of her socket…

She screamed as hundreds more crawled up her chest and belly, swarming onto her breasts, chewing at her nipples, tearing away at her shirt…

"Stop! Please! Oh God, please stop!"

She screamed as more ripped away at her pants and forced their way into her mouth, they were eating away at her organs, tearing inside her; they were eating her tongue…

Fiona screamed and screamed as her flesh and organs were torn apart by the beetles, and then...with one last, great, shuddering gasp…she fell silent.

She was dead.

The beetles, picking at the last bits of flesh on her frame, flew silently off, to await the next person who would make a mistake in the rooms of Truth and Deception.

_Click._

Daniella walked into the room, closing it behind her, her shoes tap-tapping on the stone floor. She crouched down next to the corpse of what had been once a healthy, living eighteen year old.

"My, my, Miss Fiona," she said. "You have made a mess, haven't you?"

And outside, Hewie began to howl, scratching at the closed door.

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Haha. Fiona got raped by beetles. Reviews, please, constructive crit as always very welcome!!


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